


Missing Pieces

by FuriousPoplar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pacifist Route, Pre-Pacifist Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:33:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5843488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuriousPoplar/pseuds/FuriousPoplar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toriel reflects on her actions</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Pieces

                Sitting alone for decades with nobody to speak to left one knowing themselves very well.

Toriel knew herself fantastically. She could write a multi-page thesis on her thought patterns and speech mannerisms from innumerable days where she had naught to do but listen to her own words. She could describe in perfect detail the way her claws clinked against hardwood and stone from ceaseless hours wasted aimlessly pacing back and forth. She could draft a heartfelt, touching biography for each and every one of her ideas and views as they had changed, grown and solidified over the years. She had learned everything there is to know about herself, and now she was bored of her own company. She was not alone in the ruins, necessarily- other monsters lived there, too. However, they made poor partners for conversation- most were either too intimidated by her to let her approach or simply had nothing to say. She could rouse some basic pleasantries out of the spiders, on a good day, but they were very business focused, somewhat elitist and rather reclusive.

_Hehehe… reclusive._

Little things, here and there, helped keep her sane for the longest time. Sometimes a pie would come out absolutely perfect, sometimes she might come up with a delightfully terrible pun out of nowhere. Sometimes, a mysterious man with a relaxed tone would show up at the Ruin’s doors and start tapping out astoundingly, terrifically heinous knock-knock jokes.

Even more rarely, a human would fall down. How many years between them, she was not certain- her calendar had long since run out of pages and now she kept it turned to the day that she had once marked with a big red circle. A day to remember, for once happy reasons that had now spoiled and molded rotten with dragging years.

 The humans never stayed long, and were often of few words. They all seemed to fit a similar profile- shy, quiet and teeming with a raging fire that demanded they push onwards into parts unknown. She had offered them all a place in her home, under her care, out of decency (not because she missed _them_ , do not be silly), yet as grateful as they all had seemingly been, none dared stay. _I have to go. I have places to be. I have to get home_.

None of them wanted to go home. None of them _had_ a home, not a meaningful one. Not one that mattered. Why else would anyone ever climb this godforsaken blight on the earth? Each one had learned- been _taught_ their stoicism, and most likely learned it the hard way. Just like…

_Like Chara. I know. They are dead. They died in a pool of their own blood and suffering. Then Asriel carried them off and returned as dust falling between my fingers. They are both dead. I will never see either of them ever again, outside of dreams where they cry my name and ask why I let them die. I do not need to keep reminding myself._

Of all the things she knew about herself, she had become most terribly acquainted with the wounds of the past. She had surgically picked and prodded over each one, usually over the course of many careful, emotional days, examining and documenting each little tick.

She knew exactly why she felt the way she did. She knew exactly why the arrival of each human had left her feeling like she was being taunted and mocked. She knew exactly why she could barely bring herself to even look at golden flowers. Her children, her wonderful, sweet, innocent children, torn from her arms by the vile sadist that pulled the strings of this world. She had all but gone and hung a thousand identical paper lists of the things she missed about them from every inch of Home’s walls. She missed the way Asriel could breathe multicolored life onto a page with just some pencil crayons and imagination. She missed the way Chara could lose themselves in a trance of clicking needles and spindling wool. She missed sitting when them in her arms, the only sound in the house being the gentle popping of burning kindling and her own reading. She missed their loving hearts of gold, their warm smiles of sunshine, their thoughts, their laughs, their words. She missed having… _being_ a family.

_Family…_

Another thing she knew exactly was why saying _his_ name left her mouth feeling so filthy.

_Asgore._

He had killed six- weather or not by his own two hands, she did not know, but she would not have placed high bets on the coward accepting the responsibility himself. Six children who had all been cut down and had their souls thieved from their chest, and now it was soon to be seven. Seven children and god only knows how many more on the surface, if he somehow lived up to his promise. Humans spread like wildfire- there could be billions of them up there now. Most certainly, they were entirely ignorant of the grudge that was festering beneath the soil they slept on.

She should never have let them go. As strong as they had seemed to be, no human had ever made it past Asgore. _Ever._ Visions of a field of dust and blood churning together into a putrid muddy slush flashed in her memory as proof. She had seen it for herself- when he believed his people were at stake, Asgore did not _fight_. Asgore _killed_. Sealing the Ruin’s doors off from them had been synonymous with sealing the lid on their coffin.

Waiting for the thundering, celebratory chorus of news that the barrier had been shattered and humanity butchered had left her feeling like she was waiting for the executioner’s axe to drop through her neck. The tension was slowly beginning to burn itself out of use- it had been far too long, now. Surely, the human must have made it to him, by now? Surely, the human must have been killed, by now? The Underground was not particularly large, and they did not seem the type to stay put in one place for long.

Maybe… could there still be time?

Maybe she could go find them. Maybe, they would not have to die. She could save them, there was still time. She could follow their footsteps and find them and…

She wasn’t sure what would come next. What would she do?

She would have to stop Asgore, in some way. But… what, specifically, would she do?

_Kill him._

Her mind and body reeled in horror, staggering in disgusted unison. Had she really let that thought even enter her mind? To take the life of another, her _husband_ , no less, should have been unthinkable! Her husband-

Husband. That was a word she had not used in a long time. She regretted it, somewhat. There were a few silent moments where she had to let the stabbing pain between her ribs fade away before she could continue to breathe. It seemed as if ‘Husband’ was one of those words she just couldn’t think about without peeling open poorly stitched scars of times long gone. Words like son, or child, or family. But… why? This was not a wound she was familiar with. She was used to missing her children, but why was she suddenly feeling this towards a murderer? A murderer who was still wasting good air on his breath, unlike the six who lay rotting in tombs of stone and capsules of glass. It must be simple misattribution. She was feeling this way about the human she had hugged goodbye short days ago, Asgore merely happened to be involved. 

Yet that answer didn’t satisfy her, so she kept picking away the hasty stitches to find how deep the cut went.

_This has nothing to do with the human; I have been through this six times before. I know it too well._

So she dug deeper.

_Does it remind me of family? Of my own children?_

But that kind of heartache burns in an almost signature way- she would recognize it, if it was there. So she dug deeper.

_Does it… remind me of what used to be? Of what I used to have with him?_

Deeper.

_Of what… I still wish I had?_

She should have hit bone by now. This was not a cut; this was a gouge, a half of herself that had been cleaved away.

_Does it remind me that…_

But what could leave such a horrible wound?

_…that I still love him?_

 

It was a shame, really, that there had been nobody present to see the pieces all finally click together. No rain of confetti amidst a patronizing squeal of party favors. She had finally done it. She had finally admitted that she still cared about a man with innocent blood soaked into his palms, admitted that she wanted to be with the one she had adored so deeply, an eternity ago. Admitted that some part of her wanted to forgive the sins of a man who _wasn’t even done yet_.

That had been the hardest part of it all, and now that she had scaled the mountain’s summit, it was far too easy to end up tumbling down the other side.

_I could have stood up to him. I could have stopped him from becoming this. I could have taken control and he would not have killed any of them. I could have destroyed that damn door downstairs as soon as I first stepped through it. I could have stopped that human from leaving._

_…I can go get them. I can save them, if I go right now. I can still fix this._

On any other day, for any other reason, she would have put great effort into disguising herself in an unassuming cloak, lest anyone spot her. But that would take precious time that she did not have. Nobody would dare try to stop her, and if they did, she wouldn’t dare to let them slow her down.

She did not know what she would say to him. Whatever it would be, it would not be kind. Past an aged longing for what used to be, she really did hate him for what he had let himself become. But maybe…

First, she would save the human. Some day later, she could think about forgiveness. How long, she did not know. But some day…

She looked forward to that day.

 

 

 

 


End file.
